


Snapshots

by StarlightHawke



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Gangs, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-10 23:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16464530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightHawke/pseuds/StarlightHawke
Summary: Snapshots of what goes on in the boys' minds. Some may take place during an episode, some off-screen. I'll be updating tags as needed. No doubt things will get heavy later on when more issues are explored. For now, just have some dumb gay babies.





	1. Eyes of Jade

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Honeyjarr for reading this over for me and verifying I didn’t butcher these poor boys.

It’s a shock when their eyes meet.

All this buildup. The background, the time spent reassuring his parents that everything would be _fine_ , Ibe-San will take care of him. The preparation for what they’re walking into, so much of it, and yet - and yet. None of it had been enough.

Not enough to keep him from freezing, temporary full-body paralysis holding him in place when irises the color of jade lock onto him. Hair so blond it doesn’t seem real but there it is, framing an impossibly beautiful face that’s currently focused on _him._

He's nothing in here, just a nobody from Japan that stumbled his way into a trip with someone much more important. A washed-up athlete whose teacher took pity on him. Yet here he is, in an American bar surrounded by a terrifyingly large amount of gang members, with the man of the hour looking at him.

It’s embarrassing. But.

Ibe-San breaks the silence and they set to work, taking pictures of Ash sitting with the gang members. He’s a man - no, a _boy_ \- who looks out of place in a setting like this. Taller than him, muscular, but even the harsh lines on his face and ice-cold eyes don’t make him look any less like he should be anywhere other than here. A model, perhaps? Sure, they’re putting him in a magazine but it’s hardly the kind someone like him should be featured in.

Useless thoughts. Shaking his head, Eiji is brought back to the moment when he hears Ash make a jibe about his age. As though he has room to talk. Sure, he looks young, but he’s still an adult, thank-you-very-much. Unlike the child gang-leader.

A fact that doesn’t escape his notice. After the photography equipment is put away, he stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, watching Ash interact with everyone nearby with a familiarity that only proves he has the respect of those around him. Just a kid - a kid far too beautiful to be the ruthless leader of a Manhattan street gang - and yet there are grown men in here that listen to him. What’s it like to control others so easily? Eiji has trouble keeping his younger sister in check and she’s not nearly a spitfire like these Americans.

Ash shifts in his conversation, a flash of brown and white at his waist catching Eiji’s attention. Is that…? Wow. Seventeen, blessed with ethereal beauty, a natural-born leader (there’s no way he isn’t, not with how he’s managed to round up all the surrounding groups at his age) _and_ carrying a gun. Or at least a very realistic-looking one. Well, no, it’s probably real. It wouldn’t be much use if he didn’t have a real one, right?

“Is that gun real?” It isn’t until Ash turns around and gives him a hard look, eyes scrutinizing every detail of his face that Eiji realizes _he_ asked the question.

“Meaning?”

Heat blossoms through his cheeks as he fights the urge to apologize and run before he gets himself into more trouble. _Of course it’s real._ Didn’t he establish that to himself earlier? Why did his mouth have to have a mind of its own? Now Ash is watching him expectantly, like he’s waiting for him to make a move or to do whatever people usually do in this situation and the weight of those eyes on him make him want to shrink into the ground.

But no. He’s the elder of the two and he may not have a gun tucked in his waistband but he does have logic on his side.

Hopefully logic works on a boy like Ash…

Inhaling slowly, he straightens and hides any of his misgivings as well as he can. Americans can smell fear, right? So don’t give them anything to smell. Except, well, everything else. Ugh. Not helpful.

“Real guns are illegal in Japan,” he finally returns, absentmindedly scratching his cheek. It’s a flimsy excuse, but it’s the truth. Honestly, it’s rather startling to come face to face with one outside of the CSI-like police station. That should be enough to satisfy him, hopefully.

But his mouth isn’t on the same page as his brain. “Can I hold it?”

The entire bar collectively inhales at the question, every eye on him. Okay, yeah, it was a stupid question to ask because who would let an inexperienced person hold such a dangerous weapon but the way Ibe-san rushes over to him seems a bit of an overreaction. Ash hasn’t moved, still watching Eiji with a calculating look, seemingly oblivious to the way the world is holding its breath around them. Amusement flickers across his face when Ibe-san softly chides him in a way that makes him think he must be missing _something_ but what he’s not sure. Perhaps it’s impolite?

He’s about to retract his question and try to laugh it off as a joke when Ash pushes himself away from his perch against the bar, a troublesome smirk dancing on his lips. Eiji’s focus should be on his eyes, his face, his hands, anywhere rather than on those very lips, imagining the other forms they can take, each no doubt as entrancing as the last. Is this his secret power? The way he gathered everyone? His lips?

“Sure thing.”

Somehow the atmosphere manages to swell with even more tension at the answer, Eiji’s eyes snapping up to meet Ash’s intense gaze. For a moment, there’s no one else in the room; only them, him and that beautiful, beautiful boy walking toward him, gun held out by the muzzle in an offering. Without a second thought he reaches out and takes it, eyes wide and breath held in anticipation. The metal is cool against his fingers, one side of the wood warmed from where it sat against Ash’s side. It weighs more than what he’d have expected for a thing so small. This is a weapon, a tool that can be used to take life from other humans.

Just the thought makes him feel a bit sick, and he doesn’t want to hold it any longer.

“Wow, it’s really heavy.” Thankfully Ash takes it from him as quickly as he offers it, relief flooding through him once it’s gone from his grasp. Holding such power is not for him. “Thank you for trusting me with it.” He probably doesn’t even have the stomach to pull the trigger to end someone’s existence. But Ash… “Can I ask you something?” This time he’s aware that the question he’s going to follow up with is one he probably shouldn’t ask, but Ash has been fairly receptive to his openly honest inquiries thus far. What can it hurt?

“What?”

“Have you actually killed anyone?”

“Yeah.” There’s no hesitance in the answer and not a single flicker of emotion when it’s said. Ash’s eyes seem to be daring him to say something, but what?

“You have, huh.” He shouldn’t be surprised, but for some reason, he is. Does it come back to his age? That he’s so weirdly attractive? It’s not an answer that he likes. A frown plays at the edge of his mouth, unbidden but not pushed away.

The silence stretches between them before Ash chuckles and shakes his head. “Such a baby.” Turning on his heel, he tucks the gun back in its spot and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Bring on the questions.”


	2. Innocence Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same scene, but from Ash's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I typed this one up fairly quickly and then let it sit a few days between when it got beta'd and when I edited/posted it. I'm not entirely certain how quick the next update(s) will be, simply because we are now officially in NaNoWriMo and I'm using the time set aside for that for other projects. I'll do my best, though!
> 
> Shout out to my beta, honeyjarr!

He’d be lying if he said his feathers aren’t ruffled by the fact that he’s expected to do this stupid interview even after he said no. Sure, the cops will owe him one, but he’s not really in the mood for this shit today. Between last night’s surprise and Dino’s summons earlier, there are definitely much more interesting ways he could be spending his time. Yet here he is, in the bar, waiting for a damned interview to take place so he can move on with his life. Waving off a shot of alcohol in favor of water, not wanting to risk intoxication when there’s a game afoot. A puzzle that needs to be solved; maybe one that will finally give him an edge over that foul old pervert.

Details of this gig had been pretty sparse but he doesn’t flinch when Skip finally returns, eyes sweeping to take in not one but  _ two _ foreigners. Lining up the cue stick, he takes a shot, sinking two balls easily before shuffling around to take the next one. His gaze flicks between the expertly placed mirrors around the bar and simply utilizing his peripheral vision, he scans them from head to toe. Asians, from the looks of it. But not Chinese, so… Japanese, perhaps? Certainly not American by any means; they don’t carry themselves in the same manner. Laden with bags likely filled with photography equipment, nothing stands out as dangerous at first glance. By the time the two - father and son, perhaps, although there’s little resemblance - approach he’s already settled on his belief that they’re entirely harmless and completely akin to fish out of water, gasping for breath in this unknown environment.

It’s probably pretty intimidating to someone not used to gang life. The younger one has large, innocent eyes not yet tainted by the darkness of the underworld. Youthfulness radiates off of him in droves even though he can’t be much older than Ash.

Shame that he’s been brought here, then. Ash may be many things but he’d like to believe he isn’t the type of monster that enjoys completely shattering someone’s view of the world. Hopefully they can ask their questions, take their pictures and be on their way without too much fuss so that boy can go on to live a life not chained in despair.

The introductions are swift and blunt thanks to his general disinterest in the affair and he allows them to take pictures of him while he’s having normal conversation at the bar. Once the bags are open and it’s confirmed they have no ill intentions it’s easy enough to relax and act like they’re nothing more than flies buzzing through. But not a father/son duo, huh. Photographer and his kid assistant. He snickers into his drink at the irony of him referring to someone around his age as a kid when he isn’t an adult himself, but, well. Live a life like he has and your childhood is stripped bare faster than anyone dares to acknowledge. He hasn’t had the luxury of being a kid for many, many years now.

Which might be why he’s so protective of Skip and encourages him to be as much of a child as he can.

“So they use kids as assistants in Japan, huh.” Sarcasm is a second language to him, something he never could resist using when the moment presents itself. Perhaps it’s rude to quip about another culture like this, but eh, what’re they gonna do? 

The look the kid casts over his shoulder is pure annoyance. “I’m older than you,” he responds flatly, obviously unamused.

Ash quirks an eyebrow, edge of his lips tilting upward into a smirk as he taps his fingers against the beer bottle next to him. A sore spot, huh. Probably gets told he looks younger than he is often. What did he say his name was? Eiji? A nice person would let it lie, but… “Well, excuse me.” Making no attempt to hide his own amusement at Eiji’s reaction, he shrugs and grabs the bottle to take a drink. “I thought you were a kid.” The bartender barks out a derisive laugh and the not-a-kid turns away in a huff, leaving Ash wiping the droplets off his lips with a satisfied grin. It’s a shame he won’t get more opportunities to tease this one; he has a feeling it would be fun.

Without any further requests, Ash lets himself be pulled into conversation with the others at the bar. No way is he initiating any of this. If they want an interview, let them earn their money. 

It’s not really a surprise when Eiji asks about his gun. The way he’d been staring at it for a while wasn’t all that subtle, and Ash knows how to read people well. It helps that this kid is an open book, wearing his heart on his sleeve with his thoughts practically stamped on his forehead. Still, he plays along, acting the part they’re no doubt  looking for: the hardened, suspicious child gang leader. After so many years of practice, he can make people see whatever he wants them to see. 

But it  _ does _ catch him off-guard when Eiji asks if he can hold it. It’s stupidly difficult to keep his face straight when everyone around them freezes in place, breaths held so silently if he dropped a pin, it would sound like a gong. It’s incredibly pleasing to know that he inspires this much fear among his own. No one asks him to touch his gun anymore because they know how he his. But Eiji… Eiji has no idea what he’s done, what he’s capable of. There’s no fear of him in those curious eyes, no contempt or disgust or perverted admiration. He’d seen the double-take when they first locked gazes - of course he did, he’s observant and Eiji is about as subtle as a screaming infant - but that is something he’s used to. Stupid face.

Still. Guns are illegal in Japan. And unless he’s one hell of an actor, the kid is too pure to consider using it. What would it hurt to let him hold one for what’s likely the only time in his life he’ll have the chance? Plus it’ll send a tidal wave of shock rolling throughout the room, which is almost as thrilling as knowing how much they fear him.

The photographer is already panicking and Eiji looks like he’s about to back out, so Ash takes a few sharp steps forward and grabs it from his waistband, holding it out steadily. “Sure.”  _ Knock yourself out. _

Ah, cute. That’s the only way to describe the timid way he accepts it, holding it cautiously in his hands. Ash notices that those eyes sparkle as he looks it over, and it reminds him of the stars in the night sky. Bright, hopeful, out of reach. Other reasons be damned, it was worth letting him touch it just to see such a rare expression.

What else makes Eiji light up like that?

Then he’s handing it back, the twinkle gone and replaced with something much more familiar. Almost… dread. Yeah, guns have that effect on people who aren’t used to them. It feels oddly heavier when he takes it back and slips it away, as though the fear in those eyes quantified and latched onto the metal. 

He doesn’t like it. He wants that sparkle back.

Which is why the next question is painful.

“Have you actually killed anyone?”

There’s no use in lying. It wouldn’t make him any less of a terrible person. “Yeah.” 

Eiji recoils slightly at the answer and shit, there comes the look he’s more used to seeing. He had to ask, didn’t he? And now Ash is responsible for poking a hole in the perfect background meticulously hung in front of the window, allowing the diseases of the outside world to enter and eat away at the canvas until there’s nothing left but death and decay. God, he could’ve stayed innocent but now… 

Feeling like this is shit. He  _ hates _ feeling this way, like he’s responsible for ruining someone else’s life that was fine before him. So he does the only thing he knows how to do.

He takes a breath and shoves his emotions into a box, pulling on the mask of a cold, heartless murderer. A cruel smirk plays over his lips as he considers the man in front of him. “Such a baby.” There. His thoughts put into harsh words to place distance between them. Now he just needs to get this interview done and over with so he can move on with his life and forget this ever happened. “Bring on the questions.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading. I'm always down for constructive criticism so feel free to leave some! 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr and twitter as StarlingHawke. Come say hi!


End file.
